How to Grow a Good Werewolf
by gerbilcat
Summary: What was it like growing up as a werewolf? The story of Remus Lupin, preHogwarts.


A/N: This is not only a work in progress, but basically an idea turning into a story one bit at a time. I picked the town from a google search, so please don't hold it against me. I highly doubt I'll be updating regularly, and I don't expect reviews aside from those my sister gives. Feel free to review if you'd like, though! Thanks for reading.

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Late October, 1964_

As the full moon rose over the little cluster of cottages on the outskirts of Charing Cross, casting a muted glow over the thatched roofs and uneven streets a cruel, almost laughing howl swelled to consume the night. As its maddening pitch dwindled, a soft sobbing could be heard. The tiny form of Remus John Lupin lay in the gutter near the cottage on the outer most edge of the cluster, hardly conscious and soak with blood. Between his nearly silent tears he whimpered for his mother as his wounds ceaselessly pour blood into the street. The terror which froze his mind nearly overshadowed the excruciating pain that was slowly causing the world to go gray. His eyes slipped closed and tears oozed out as the young boy slowly gave up.

"Remus? Remus! Oh lord please, no. Don't take my son. Not my Remus."

His eyes flew open at the sound of his mother's voice. He tried to get up, to run to her, and the last thing he saw before his efforts cause the black veil to cover his world was his mother's stark, white face, full of concern. Her eyes, though, were full of fear. Fear for him, and although he was only four years old he understood; fear OF him.

**-------**

"...nothing we can do..." "...a CHILD though... "...age isn't a factor..." "...sure?" "...lucky he's not...or worse..."

As Remus' consciousness slowly came back he caught these snippets of conversation. He recognized his mother's soft voice and his father's gruff, slightly slurred one, but there were others he didn't know. He couldn't make much of what little he was hearing, and many of the words did hear were ones he didn't know or understand. His blood turned cold, however, every time someone said the word "Fenrir", though he didn't know why.

Once the strings of words began to become sentences, and he could more fully grasp that the conversation was about him, he decided that opening his eyes would be the best thing to do next. He did not expect the reaction this caused. Upon seeing his weary gray eyes open, his mother promptly began to bawl and flung herself on her son.

"Oh my baby, you're awake! You're okay!" she stated as she smothered him with wet kisses.

"Ouch, mum! My side hurts an awful lot. Why are you crying? Are you hurt too?" his voice raising slightly with alarm as the idea of his mother in pain came together in his mind.

"No my darling, I'm just happy you're alive. Do you...do you feel normal, Remus?" her voice took on a rather nervous note and her eyes darted around his face as she asked.

"The boysh fine, Amelia. Jush givim hish spash, wouldja?"

Amelia Lupin's face suddenly became very hard, and very cold as she whipped around to look at her husband. His eyes, as Remus saw, were their normal shade of watery blue with tinges of red in the corners. He stood with his shoulders hunched, swaying slightly on the spot. Remus felt both warm and cold towards his father. He didn't understand why he didn't always love Dad, but he knew when he looked like this (which was often) he made Mum very angry. And Remus loved his mother dearly.

"Edwin Thomas Lupin you keep your belligerent mouth shut," Amelia's voice was low and deadly, there was not a drop of love to be found in her tone. "If it weren't for you and that drunken mouth of yours, your son wouldn't be in St. Mungo's here, now would he? What fool idea made you think for a second that makin' jokes about half-breeds to Fenrir Greyback, let alone talking to the man, was any form of intelligent? You've heard the stories, you're at the pub enough lord knows. You know what he does, and yet you still thought it wise to provoke him? Did you think you were above repercussions? No, Edwin. I will not give my boy his "spash" because he is sick and he needs me. He needs a father, too when it comes to that but Merlin knows he'll never have a proper one of those. I've got the job of two to perform so you can just keep your whisky-breathed mouth shut and stand there or you can leave. I don't much care either way right now."

With that, she snapped her head back to her son. He only caught the slighted glimpse of her face before it melted into warm concern, but what he saw made him choke up and tears burst from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, mum" he sobbed into his hands. "I shoulda come in before dark, but I saw a cricket and I followed it around and...and...and...I'm sorry!"

"Shhh. Darling, shhh. You didn't cause this trouble, don't worry your little head. All I want you to do is lay back and get some more sleep. You'll feel better in the morning when your bones are all healed up."

She wiped his tears away as he lay back onto his pillow, nodding.

He was a good boy. He never raised his voice, he never disobeyed. If his mother wanted him to get some sleep, then sleep he would get. The thought that he had caused so much trouble and made his mum so angry again crossed his mind and he sniffed hard, but his mothers loving hands were there to stroke his hair and soon he was falling back into the dark, a little more at ease than when he had woken up.


End file.
